Secrets: Unleashed
by NarniaPrincess21
Summary: Everyone has secrets, some are a little...weird. 7 part series, slow updates.
1. Johnny

**Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns the book. **

**I just own the plot of this story.**

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It was a dreary morning, nothing had happened in the last few months. Socials still ruled the city, living it up big in the West side, driving in their tuff mustangs, and constantly in the newspapers. Greasers were still the poor east siders, fighting and being in jail, loving and feeling emotions the Socs could never dream of feeling. Rumbles between Greasers and Socs had halted, for the most part; fewer greasers had been jumped, and the city was almost peaceful. Which, considering the scale of Tulsa, seemed impossible.

However, a stirring had begun, upon the release of a criminal. A criminal, that happened to be the murderer of a soc; and who was a greaser. A young one at that. Just a few months shy of eighteen. The said boy had been strolling down the street, and had come across a certain hair salon.

The afore mentioned salon was partly vacant; of people that is. The actual furnishing happened to take up a large amount of space. No, the emptiness of the room was due to the lack of people. Other than the owner; only two biddies were present, gossiping about something completely unimportant. So a completely normal day in said parlor. However, the owner wasn't feeling normal at all. Quite the opposite really. She was nervous.

You see, the criminal had been passing back and forth in front of the salon. And, since the entire front was windows, it wasn't hard to tell it was him. Especially since he had been in the papers a year before, and in recent days.

Back and forth he went, after about ten trips across, he finally stopped to look in the window. After a few more trips, he had successfully reached the door. However, it took at least five more paces before he went in.

As soon as he had walked through the door, the women in the salon stopped talking. One even gasped. Then, they started to whisper and point at him.

The young man timidly cast glances around the room, sighed, then walked to the counter, while playing with lip. (A nervous habit of his.)

The owner waited behind the counter, tense. With a false smile plastered on her face, she asked him, "How may I help you?"

"Hi, ma'am, I saw the 'help wanted' sign, and I was wonderin' if I could apply."

For a moment, the owner said nothing. She was shocked. Here stood a greaser who had murdered a wealthy teenager, that was asking for a job at her salon.

"Wh-why should I hire you?" She finally stuttered.

"Listen, I've done bad the past couple of years, and I want, I want to do something. Something that I can have the power to change or fix. Besides, I've wanted to be a stylist for as long as I can remember. I promise not to cause any trouble."

"Well…"

"One day, is all ask. If you still don't want me to work here, then I won't." He looked at her with pleading eyes, almost like a puppy.

"Alright then, Jonathan Cade." She used the name that was given in the paper.

"You can call me Johnny."

"Okay then, Johnny, I'm Mrs. Jones, and you can address me as such. Can you do your trial today?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Then, the first thing you can do is sweep. I haven't gotten around to it, and I hate dirty floors."

After being shown the supply closet, Johnny set off to work, sweeping and whistling a tune that no one in the shop could identify.

The ladies, after a few minutes, had warmed up to having the greaser there, and had even talked to him while he swept. Mrs. Jones soon realized that the boy wasn't going to hurt anybody.

"Johnny?" She called out, and gestured for the young man to come over.

"Yes, Mrs. Jones?" Johnny looked nervous.

"I have decided that I will let you give a haircut to the next person if they are fine with it. If you don't style it like they want, then you will be fired. You get one chance. Is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"All right. Until then, you can clean the tools."

Johnny went back to cleaning as the morning wore on. It was almost noon when the next customer came in. She was a regular there, so when she arrived, Mrs. Jones was rather nervous.

"Ah, Florence, good to see you again." The young woman greeted Mrs. Jones.

"And you too, Lillian."

"So, I was thinking about changing my hair completely. It's just, to much."

"Well, I was going to ask, we have a new candidate, and…"

"Yes, I'll be your guinea pig."

"Are you sure?" Lillian nodded. "Johnny?"

The dark young man walked quickly over to the counter.

"Now, you do exactly what she wants, alright?" The boy nodded, then led the customer to a chair.

Twenty minutes later, Johnny finished up. The woman gasped at her reflection.

"Do you like it, Ma'am?" "Oh, it's perfect. It's so light, and just wonderful!" The lady known as Lillian exclaimed, and twisted her head around, looking at it from different angles. Johnny spun her around, and gave her a hand mirror to see the back.

After making sure she liked it, he unbuttoned the cape from her neck.

Standing, the smiling woman gave him a hug, and walked to the counter to pay. While the two women talked, Johnny began to clean the tools and floors.

"Florence, he did a bang up job. If you don't hire him, you'd have to be insane."

"I know, but, how will people respond to a killer? I could lose my salon over this!"

"If anyone has a problem, tell them to come to me. Besides, it was self-defense! And, if you remember, he did save those kids a week later." Lillian gave Mrs. Jones a stern look.

"Alright." She looked over at Johnny. He was a good employee. "Johnny, can I talk to you for a moment?" The young man rushed over, a confused look on his face.

"I have decided that I will hired you. However, if you make one mistake, that could change, am I clear?" Johnny nodded. Then, he went back to cleaning up the section, his section now, for the next customer.

The day wore on, and customers came and went, and nobody seemed to have a problem with the convict turned hairdresser. Between cuts, he would chat with the ladies getting perms, clean the tools, and sweep the floors. Even Mrs. Jones had to admit he was a very effective employee.

It was late afternoon, and Johnny was chatting with the customer in his chair about a pet. Suddenly, the door opened to a young greaser who was about fifteen or sixteen.

"Hello, Mrs. Jones. Mr. Billings forgot to drop this box on his run, so I offered to get it to you." He handed the woman the package. Pointing at the sign, he asked, "Did you find anyone yet?"

"Yes, a young man. He's quite good at it." Mrs. Jones replied, as opened the box, then gestured to Johnny.

The younger greaser looked at the new employee. Eyes widened, he asked, "Johnny?"

The greaser in question looked to the source of the voice. "Ponyboy?"

"Johnny, are you a….Hairstylist?"

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**There ya'll have it folks. Until next time, please review!**


	2. Sodapop

**So, again, not my characters. Except Mr. Dean. I made him up. **

**Anyway, I wrote this for Sodapop's birthday. (Oct. 8) However, I have school that day, so the new chapter is early! Hurry! **

**Another update that doesn't really pertain to the story: My pet ferret, Baby, died. (Sept. 28) And school is killing me. So, any update will be slow. **

**Nonetheless, on with the story!**

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Sunlight had started to creep in the room from behind the curtains. Sodapop Curtis rolled over in his empty bed, and looked at the clock. 7:45 am. Time to get up.

The eighteen year old rolled out of bed and walked down the hall. The living room was already teeming with activity. The TV blared the sounds of Mickey Mouse; while Two-bit stared intently at the screen, chewing an egg and sipping orange juice. Steve sat on the couch, glancing between a full plate and the screen.

Soda walked to the kitchen, where Darry stood munching a piece of toast and reading the newspaper. Ponyboy flittered around the room, gathering papers and textbooks and shoving them is his book bag.

"Hey Soda!" Ponyboy exclaimed.

Darry looked up from his morning paper. "Hey little buddy, I was wondering when you'd get up." He then handed Soda a plate of eggs, toast , and ham.

"Well, yesterday was busy." He looked over at Pony. "Hey did you see Johnny? I heard that he got out yesterday."

"Uh…yeah…I mean no… I mean… why are you asking so may questions?" he then bolted out of the kitchen.

"What's gotten into him?" Soda asked Darry, who in turn just shrugged.

"Hey Soda, if we're going to get there in time we need to leave." Steve yelled from the living room. Soda then shoved a majority of the food in his mouth, found his shirt and shoes; and had Steve forgotten to remind him, his pants.

When the two guys got to the DX, the manager was standing outside the doors, looking down at his watch. "Boys, you're late." Though he said it in a stern voice, he smiled, meaning that he wasn't mad.

"Sorry Mr. Dean, blondie here couldn't seem to find his clothes this morning." Steve told him, snickering.

"Mh hmm, well Mr. Randle, get to the back, some rich girl needs her oil changed." He then turned to Soda. "Mr. Curtis, can I speak to you in my office?"

"Yes sir." Soda answered back, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Alright. See you in a second." He nodded at Steve, then went inside.

"Man, what did you do?" Steve asked.

"I don't know."

"Did you steal a candy bar? You know that he's practically religious about those stupid things."

"No, Steve. Golly, I hope I don't get fired. Darry'll skin my hid. Can't hardly find a job anymore."

"Goody luck buddy." Stave said, patting his back and then heading to the back of the station.

Taking a deep breath, Soda walked inside and into the manger's office.

"Come, sit down son." Mr. Dean said, gesturing to a chair. Sodapop hesitantly sat down. "Son, do you know why I called you in here?"

Soda shook his head. "No, sir."

"Son, you've been working from sun up to sun down for two years. You haven't had any time off since Christmas."

"What does that mean for me sir?"

"Son, I giving you the day off. And you are going to take it. You need to hang out, have a childhood. It won't last, believe me. If you hang 'round here, I'll fire you. Is that clear?"

"But boss-"

"No buts Mr. Curtis. Now get yours outta here." He shoved a very dazed and confused Soda out of the office, and shut the door.

He slowly walked down the hall into the main store front. Jimmy the pimple-faced clerk sat behind the counter reading a magazine. The boy looked up and called out a hey before returning to the article.

Soda made his way down the street, kicking a can and thinking of who he could hang with. Ponyboy was at school. Steve was at the DX. Darry was working. Who even knew where Dally was. Johnny was still gone. Even Two-bit was gone off to see his new blonde in another county. Didn't he have more friends than this? Guess not.

Sighing, he went to the front door. Then fumbled with the door. Darry had recently decided to lock the doors because of recent break-ins of the neighbors. But they did leave a key in the orange clay toad, affectionately named Hoppy. Ponyboy had made it in art one year.

How the thing didn't get broken was beyond the boys. Especially when Dally was playing 'throw the toad in the air and try to catch it' when he was drunk once. Like to scare us to death. We all thought he was going to get hit on the head. Can you imagine that? Death by clay toad.

The living room is empty of all sound and people. Usually, the room has some life. Soda sighed and sat down on all the couch. He looked around. Tapped his fingers on the coffee table. Hummed a Elvis song. All in the span of 5 minutes. It was driving him insane. "Yep, great childhood. I'm totally the life of the party." He confided in the room.

Sighing, he decided to make an early lunch. Ham and cheese. Yum. He then realized the mess in the kitchen. Thought about cleaning the kitchen. Thought about eating the sandwich. The sandwich won first priority.

He turned on the TV. Mickey was off. The news was on. He scrolled through the five channels. News, news, commercial, commercial, and soap opera.

He flipped through them again. News, Old Yeller, News, Lassie, and soap opera.

He went through it a third time. And a fourth. Fifth, Sixth.

"OH MY GOSH! WHY IS THERE NOTHING ON!"

Soda, completely bored, decided to see what the soap opera was.

"_Previously on As the World Turns…_

'_Franny, your fired.'_

'_Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you, Ellen. I could go to the press and reveal every secret this company has. And yours too.'_

'_Do you know why you're here?' 'Yes.' _

'_Roy, I'm pregnant.'_

'_Now on As the World turns…"_

After about an hour, Soda was hooked. When a character that he didn't like would get hurt, he would laugh; if it was a character he liked, he would cry. He was quite like a middle aged woman that desperately needed romance in her life. During the commercials, he would yell at the TV to go back to the show. So, really bad obsessed. He felt a connection to Roy, what with his wife being named Sandy. And her being pregnant. Needless to say, he still hadn't really gotten over his own Sandy.

The day wore on, and Soda, for the first time in his life was mostly still. Usually he couldn't stand to watch TV for long. But this, this was an addiction.

"_Roy, I'm scared." The pregnant Sandy says, stroking her stomach._

"_Sandy, It's alright. I'll always keep you safe."_

"_But, Roy, your in there." She answers, gesturing to the jail._

"_As long as you are mine, I'll always be with you."_

Soda sniffed, then blew his nose in a tissue. "That is so sad, yet beautiful… Sandy, I forgive you! Please don't ever leave Roy!"

Suddenly the door opened from the kitchen. Ponyboy stood, obviously bewildered as his eyes past between the crying Soda and the scene on TV. He threw his hands in the air. "I'm not even going to ask."

"Oh, Pone, I was just…What are you doing home so early?"

"It was an early release. I went down to the DX but Steve said you had the day off. If I would have known, I would have taken Bill up on his offer to go to the movies."

"Maybe you should have."

"Yeah, maybe your right."

"Because, Pony As the World Turns….."

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**And another chapter bites the dust. Please Review. And, ya'll get to pick the next person. So, I need feedback. Or the updates will drag on forever!**


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